


Certain Circumstances

by Orahime



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bad Albus Dumbledore, Bad Ginny Weasley, Bad Ron Weasley, Crossdressing, First Love, Good Draco Malfoy, M/M, Multi, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2020-03-09 23:07:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18926839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orahime/pseuds/Orahime
Summary: Harry decides that living as the Savior of the Wizarding World was too much. So with the help of his best friends carves out a new identity for himself, or rather, herself. Hope Evans walks away from the Wizarding World and lives her life the way she wanted to.





	Certain Circumstances

**Author's Note:**

> Hello readers! This is actually a rewrite of Certain Circumstances that was up on FFN like, 3 years ago. LOL  
> I've deleted most of my old stories and I'm slowly in the process of rewriting them and posting them here instead.

Harry James Potter stood in front of the Mirror of Erised. It had been several years since the second Wizarding War. Everyone had grieved, moved on from the dark times. There was a great increase in children and in less than ten years, the halls of New Hogwarts will be filled once again with magical children

More than there had ever been in Harry’s year. Definitely more than his parents’ time in Hogwarts.

Standing in the mirror was a reflection of himself. An older version of Harry who stood tall and proud a smile on his face, a ring on his finger and an arm around Cedric’s waist.

How cruel was Fate to show him his desires. Things that he could never achieve in his lifetime.

xxXXxx

It had been five years since the Battle of Hogwarts and Harry once again hiding in the attic of Godric’s Hollow. He had moved into his family’s old cottage almost two years ago now. It had been strange, to live in the house where his parents were murdered. But after the renovation, it seemed like a better option than dusty old Grimmauld.

xxXXxx

 

After the war, Harry refused to move on, he simply couldn’t. He would stay and assist with the building of New Hogwarts. It was at the same place as the destroyed castle but now more modern and no longer drafty in the winters. (The Slytherins and Hufflepuffs were grateful for the new improvements).

It had taken almost four months before it was safe and structurally sound enough to pass inspection.

In the four months, Harry worked day and night. Helping with the foundation, the wards, the recruiting. Anything that required manpower and magic, Harry would be there to offer a helping hand, despite his intense gaze and pursed lips. He would work himself to the point of exhaustion and collapse into deep sleep late into the night before waking bleary eyed, early the next morning, ready to repeat the routine once again.

He had grown up too fast during the war. They all did. The horrors never seemed to leave. The images of dead friends and people he considered family flashed behind closed eyes. It was obvious that he was suffering from some kind of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, according to Hermione.

Next to Harry, you would be able to find eitherHermione and Luna. Lending their expertise in knowledge to assist with the building of the school. Hermione more often than not, next to McGonagall, discussing on how they could further improve the school. Normally the suggestions of a Muggleborn who had barely passed in legal age based on Wizarding laws.

But Hermione had a brilliant mind and an even stronger drive to succeed. She didn’t want to see anymore children getting hurt under the roof of New Hogwarts. The cold lifeless eyes of Colin Creevey still haunted her dreams.

Luna was working on the grounds of Hogwarts. With the population of the Forbidden Forest reduced to barely half of the original amount, Luna and some other volunteers worked hard to assist the magical creatures with territory building and establishment.

Nobody quite knew or understood why Luna was the way she was but there was no denying that the blonde had seen her own fair share of the horrors. Harry didn’t bother her with silly questions and helped her whenever she asked.

An unusual sight was Draco Malfoy, the normal prim and elegant heir of House Malfoy, with the sleeves of his shirt rolled up and grime on his face. The sweat stains on his back from straining to control his magic. He and Harry would work together most of the time, schoolyard rivalries forgotten.

Their side had won. Not without their losses.

Nobody quite understood like the other did. Their friendship bloomed. After Ron and Ginny’s, well - _betrayal_ , Harry had been lost and heartbroken. Losing his first friend and a woman that he had thought he had grown to love. What did he know about love, barely sixteen with hearts in his eyes. Love potioned to the gills.

It was painful to see the two familiar faces standing on the other side of the war. Wands at the ready.

Ready to kill.

Harry and Draco had latched on to each other like life preservers. Both of them were drowning in the sea of war and hate. They had nothing but each other to keep them afloat from the nightmares and anxiety. When Draco had found them in the Forest of Dean - after Ron had left in a fit of rage, Harry and Hermione had welcomed him with open arms.  

The scar down his arm, which looked like someone had sliced through the Dark Mark but was unsuccessful, was enough proof that Draco was on their side.

After the rebuilding of Hogwarts, the four of them were invited to resume their last year of studies. Hermione agreed immediately, Draco hot on her heels. But Harry and Luna had declined. There was nothing that they wished to learn from the halls of Hogwarts. They needed time away. They needed to get away from wizards and laws and politics.

So for a year, Harry and Luna travelled the roads less travelled, while Hermione and Draco joined the 7th years to complete their last year of their magical education. Luna documenting her findings in a little notebook while Harry was content to just… Be.

Be Harry.

xxXXxx

It had been an accident. After travelling with Luna for just over a year, Harry had grown complacent with hiding his identity. His fame in the Wizarding World didn’t follow him when he was trekking the jungles of Brazil.

So when he had arrived in the designated Portkey lobby in the Ministry, he definitely did not expect to be mobbed by an overzealous crowd of witches and wizards.

Almost an hour later, a worn out Saviour flopped onto the sofa in Grimmauld Place. Luna content to pat his unruly hair as she hummed a tune that she didn’t know the words to.

“It can’t go on like this.” Harry grumbled.

“If only you didn’t look like Harry James.” Luna mused as she twirled a lock of dark hair around her finger.

“That’s it!” Harry exclaims as he suddenly sat up, knocking into Luna’s hand who only looked at him with a smile.

“All I have to do, is just not look like me!” The dark haired teen jumped off the sofa with a smile as he rushed up the creaky stairs of Grimmauld Place. Luna getting up slowly as she followed her friend up the stairs, a smile on her face.

For the past year, Harry and Luna had basically been living in the wild, away from people and only getting the occasional owl from Hermione and Draco. The only human interactions they got was when they wandered into wizarding communities to purchase or trade for supplies.

And the Second Wizarding War didn’t reach as far as they thought it would. The late Dark Lord was content to concentrate his efforts on the shores of Great Britain. Meaning Harry wasn’t recognised by the masses and could go through his days in relative peace.

The news of Harry Potter who destroyed horcruxes and and survived the killing curse had spread far and wide but nobody knew what he actually looked like. So if nobody knew what he looked like in London, then he could go back to living in relative peace once again.

“Should I just dye my hair or charm it instead?” Harry muses as he stares into the bathroom mirror, running fingers through his messy locks. He didn’t have a reason to actually cut his hair, preferring to keep it in a bun and out of the way while stalking rare creatures in the wild. So his hair had grown incredibly long over the past year.

Where it had curled messily around his head in a bird’s nest fashion. It now hung low down his back in messy waves, the weight of the hair taming it slightly and honestly it looked better that it ever did.

“If you’re going to be hiding in plain sight,” Luna began with her arms crossed while leaning against the doorframe, “Why don’t you just pretend to be a girl?”

Harry turned to face Luna’s reflection in the mirror, mouth agape with shock.

“Y-you, want me to cross dress?” He splutters as a blush spreads across his cheeks.

“You seemed to like the sari that we tried in India.” Luna pointed out, her dreamy gaze avoiding Harry’s eyes in the mirror.

“They were comfy!” Harry protested.

“The yukata when we spent the summer in Kyoto?”

“The fabric was pretty.” A pretty flush spreads across his cheeks.

“And there are other comfy clothes that will hide your gender while you hide from your fame.” Luna argues, the same serene smile on her lips as she seemed to imagine Harry in various female outfits. “I think you’d be a beautiful girl, Harry.”

“I mean, I look like such a boy?” Harry mused, angling his chin to observe his features under the overhead bathroom lights.

“You don’t look a day over sixteen.” Luna nods as she tilts her head as if to examine Harry further.

“I-I guess you’re right.” He reluctantly admits. He hadn’t even started shaving, facial hair refusing to grow on his baby face.

“You don’t have to dress as a girl Harry, but it’s an option. No one would be looking for a dark haired, green eyed girl.” She says before she flounced away from the bathroom, knowing that the conversation was over.

Two weeks later with help from both Hermione and Draco, who demanded to help, Harry stood in the living room of Grimmauld Place, wearing a long skirt and a comfortable pink sweater in front of his friends. His hair was carefully curled and left to frame his face and his newly cut bangs hid the signature scar without much fuss.

“I think we should dye your hair, if only to a different shade of brown.” Hermione suggested as she hummed, circling Harry. Draco sat on the armchair with his legs crossed, a cup of tea in hand. The blond had made himself at home for years now. Ever since he had defected and joined Harry on his Horcrux hunt, Harry had allowed Draco access into the Black townhouse.

Draco and Hermione both made use of the place during the holidays. Neither of them wanted to return to their homes. While Hermione had found her parents, she couldn’t reverse her obliviate and now they were getting to know their legally an adult daughter that they had absolutely no recollection of.

It was painful and Hermione could only handle so much before her emotions got to her.

xxXXxx

Draco was welcome to his childhood home no matter what, but the memories of the Dark Lord walking along the halls haunted him and his mother. While Narcissa didn’t leave, she had made her peace and seemed to have moved on from her husband’s mistakes. She understood that her son was traumatised and deserved to rest his head in a place that he could feel safe in.

“He would look better with lighter shade of hair, or maybe with a tint of red.” He agreed, hiding a smile behind his cup as he took another sip.

“Red would bring out your eyes.” Luna added from her position where she layed on her stomach across the sofa. Harry pulled on a lock of hair and tried to imagine it as a different colour.

“Think of it as an image change, and if you really don’t like it, we can always magic it back.” Hermione soothed, she recognised the look of uncertainty in those green eyes.

Last week, while Harry had been under several charms that would normally have hidden his identity, he had been found out when he had given his owl address to a shopkeeper and a nosy customer had seen him writing his name.

He had been mobbed in twenty seconds flat and the store was left in a state of mess previously unseen since the break in of Gringotts.Which the Goblins were still unhappy about judging from the glares the trio got every time they had to go to the bank.

It was another week of preparation before he felt mentally ready enough to get out of Grimmauld Place. This time dressed in a long skirt that swept at his ankles and a pretty pullover in a brilliant shade of green, Harry gingerly left the safety of his wards and took a walk down the street to the grocery store.

He needed to stock up on food and why would it matter if he tried out his new disguise while he was out. Exploring the muggle world was a safer bet.

He was pushing a trolley, shopping list in hand. There were four people living in the house now, not including Kreacher. He had been used to buying food enough for just Luna and himself but his grocery list had doubled and almost tripled. Especially since Teddy visited more often than not with Andromeda in tow.

Draco ate more than all of them combined, the blond had started working out and gaining some muscle definition, he looked so different from the waif that he had been in Hogwarts. Hermione was a stress eater, she was studying Magical Law in hopes of breaking in to politics where she could help with the new changes that the new Minister Shacklebolt was planning for the near future.

Draco was taking over the Malfoy industries that his father had left behind. While his stock worth had plummeted, his father had cleverly enough set up enough investments to keep the company afloat. Investments that needed managing, which Draco was learning to do now that he had finally graduated from New Hogwarts. Harry could raise a glass to the foresight of the man. Lucius was serving life in Azkaban and Draco had yet been able to muster up the courage to visit his father.

Harry understood it well enough.

It was on Hermione’s 21st birthday when he realised that he wasn’t aging. He and Draco had been dating for a while now. Draco had blossomed into a beautiful man, with his pale blond hair and stormy grey eyes. He stood at 6ft tall, broad shoulders and trim waist.

Harry remained exactly the same, no matter how he tried, he couldn’t gain any weight and didn’t grow any taller than his 5ft8”. While not very short, both his parents had been taller than Harry was at their age. Harry remained at an awkward stage of bony knees and scrawny arms. The same baby face that didn’t require shaving and if he compared himself in photos, he didn’t look like he had aged a day, despite being well into his twenties now.

This prompted a mad research spree by all four of them, who had moved out of Grimmauld Place and instead moved into the newly renovated Godrick’s Hollow. Harry remained a recluse, refusing to show his face in the public eye without his disguise so the press and general public had assumed to continue looking for a young man in his twenties to stride around with dark hair and green eyes and scar on his forehead.

But Harry, or Hope, as he called himself when in disguise, remained a slim girl with reddish brown hair and pretty green eyes, always wearing comfortable clothes and a smile on her face. Hope Lily Evans was kind to all the shopkeepers in Diagon Alley, and always had a kind word to spare.

Hope Evans was a pretty young thing who had just moved in to the area and was nothing but polite.

Harry had never felt more free.

He was content to be a boy while he was home, able to be Just Harry while in the company of his friends, his usually carefully styled hair pulled back in a lazy ponytail, wearing sweats and an oversized Puddlemere United shirt (a christmas present from Oliver) while lounging in the living room with a good book.

With his hair pulled back from his face, you could see the sharp definition of his strong jaw and wide cheekbones. But still padded by the last remnants of baby fat. There always seemed to be that air of youth around him, despite him celebrating his 20th birthday last month.

He spent his days learning to manage the Potter businesses, he wasn’t quite as rich as Malfoy had been in his prime but now that he was the Saviour, it seemed like random people had deemed him worthy of bequeathing vaults to in their untimely deaths. If Harry played his cards right, he could easily be the richest man in Europe.

People who had died during the war, hoping that they could help with at least one last aspect to the winning side. Well, the side that they wanted to win. People whom Harry had known nothing about, apparently this ‘movement’ had started while he was still a baby, when he had vanquished the Dark Lord the first time.

The popular opinion was that the Ministry wasn’t doing all that it could for the war, considering the Dark Lord’s reputation and perpentancy for striking the family of Aurors and Ministry officials. Nobody was above the Dark Lord’s radar. If you were muggleborn, if you had muggle family, no matter how high your station, no matter how strong you magic, the Dark Lord would be there to spread his propaganda.

With the declining birth rate of the British wizarding community, many wizards and witches who have died over the past twenty years had written Harry as the sole proprietor of their earthly belongings. Majority of it gold, sometimes family heirlooms and other times magical tomes.

Dumbledore had been making use of him his entire life. He had read the bank transactions, they had began the very same night when he had been left on the Dursley’s doorstep. The old man had wasted no time. Thousands of galleons at a time moved from the Potter accounts into Dumbledore’s ‘war fund’. Mostly the gold and magical books given to him by lonely old people who hoped for a better future.

After bringing it up to the higher bank managers in his fifth year, the previous goblin who had been in cahoots with Dumbledore had been beheaded and replaced with a familiar face. Griphook often scowled at Harry from the other side of the desk, the time they spent together in the Malfoy dungeons during the war did nothing for their working relationship.

But with the goblin’s help Harry managed to regain the money that Dumbledore had pilfered and with added interest. The old coot was now serving several life sentences in Azkaban. The Dumbledore vaults basically empty and only the ancestral Dumbledore left standing.

Only because it belonged to Aberforth and not Albus.

Not that Aberforth had ever held a grudge against Harry. The young Saviour had sat down at the Hogshead and spent the afternoon talking. No hard feelings and a another chapter closed. Aberforth had only asked for one thing and it was a beautiful painting of Arianna, hand clasped and blue eyes twinkling happily.

Her portrait was hung near the bar so that Aberforth could talk to her whenever he wanted. Harry was happy to pass the portrait to the barkeep. Her sunny disposition and occasionally far away look in her eyes reminded Harry of Luna.

“Harry?” Draco called out. Harry snapped his head to the direction of the voice, startled. He had thought he would be alone today. The other three had plans and wouldn’t be home till late. Blinking owlishly, Harry took in the darkness of the room and noted that the only light seemed to be from the fireplace.

He didn’t remember lighting it. It must have been Kreacher. The house elf was more or less used to Harry’s strange periods of silence where the young man would wallow in his thoughts. This wasn’t the first time, but it was the first time that someone had caught him.

“Yes, Dray?” Harry answered, lips trying to pull themselves into a tired smile.

“Did you want dinner?” It was a loaded question. Are you alright? Do you need help? What’s wrong? All of the questions that Harry wouldn’t want to answer, and Draco already knew that he wouldn’t get an appropriate response.

“I could use a bite.” Harry hummed, closing the book in his lap. From the way his dark haired friend swayed slightly, it was obvious that Harry hadn’t eaten anything at all today. On the pretense of being curious, Draco calmly walked over to offer Harry a hand of assistance. Harry hadn’t gained any weight in the past couple of years, but there was a sense of fragility in the hand that he held.

The same hand that had cast spell after spell against Death Eaters. Spells that had kill, spells that have healed. Spells that had made Draco and Hermione laugh when the three of them were huddled in a tent in the dead of winter with nothing but each other for company. The hand that had accepted him despite everything, despite their rocky past.

“I think Granger is bringing back some muggle fast food.” Draco scowled, making Harry laugh. The breathy sound set Draco’s heart racing. He had known that he was in love with Harry for quite a while now.

“You can call her Hermione, you know. I won’t tell.” Harry smiles and Draco feels his stomach dropping at the sight. He scoffs instead, hoping that Harry wouldn’t catch the flush on his cheeks. It was hard to control the flutter of his heart and the tightening of his gut when Harry looked at him with such pretty eyes.

“I’d rather not.” Draco stubbornly refused, though the knowing look in Harry’s eyes were a sight to behold.

They were making tea, well, Draco was making the tea while Harry was watching the blond work. Apparent;y Harry didn’t understand the delicate taste of tea and could never brew the tea at the absolute right temperature to get the best taste.

Hermione kicked open the front door with a foot, her arms laden with bags of takeout and a smile on her face. Her hair was swept into a messy bun and Luna walked in after their brunette friend armed with an equal number of bags.

“I ran into Luna at Burger King and she decided that we needed to try every item on their menu.” Hermione says clearly annoyed by the pink in her cheeks. “Dragon hasn’t tried anything from Burger King!” Luna quipped, putting her bags next to Hermione.

Harry sat up from the bar stool he was perched on and peered into the bags. “Did you get some onion rings, then?”

“We got one of everything from the menu.” Hermione rolled her eyes.

“I got you an extra one.” Luna replied. The bright grin on Harry’s face made Draco’s heart pound as the dark haired man reached in to grab a container of what looked like thin fried doughnuts.

“Here, have one Dray.” Harry pushes one of the fried doughnuts into his mouth and Draco instinctively opened his mouth and bit into the fried ring. If he had ended up fighting Harry for the remainder of the box of ‘onion rings’ only Hermione and Luna were there to bear witness. If Harry kissed the side of Draco's mouth in an attempt to rid the blond of some crumbs, Draco would deny the blush on his cheeks to his dying day. Hermione had wolf whistled while Luna had smiled knowingly. 

That was how they spent majority of their days, quiet evenings, warm companionship. The occasional screeching. The odd explosion. It was their home.

**Author's Note:**

> I've mentioned it earlier but this is a rewrite, while I cannot promise regular updates, I can tell you that I have a general plot and the story has advanced far enough that I'll probably won't get writer's block for a while. Leave a comment or kudos! I appreciate constructive criticism.


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